


Broken Steel v2

by MangoBait



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Action, Adventure, Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Grief, Guilt, Romance, Slow Burn, With some not so canon elements, seriously the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoBait/pseuds/MangoBait
Summary: After the traumatizing nuclear apocalypse and death of her husband, Ashtyn Jones sets out on a quest to find her kidnapped son. With no understanding of how to survive in this post-nuka-hell, she is armed with nothing but her wits and gut instinct to keep herself alive. Her quick tongue and lack of filter make her unruly, irrational, and difficult to trust on the field, but her determination and heart are enough to convince Paladin Danse that maybe she could be worth the Brotherhood of Steel name. Forged through a deal, the two are forced to work together - for good or ill. However, the Commonwealth has more in store for them than just the 'boogieman'.Follows the main plot of Fallout 4, leaning heavily on the Brotherhood of Steel side. Minor tweaks and alterations have been made to the core story because it would be super boring to read what you could be playing. I'm always open for feedback!THIS IS A REBOOT OF A PREVIOUS WORK. I am returning back to writing (finally) and have decided to redo my entire Fallout fic. I am adding chapters, piecing stuff together, and completely taking out some parts. Enjoy!





	1. Dark and Twisty Appetizer

_My voice was hoarse from lack of use, from screaming at the top of my lungs, from begging and pleading as the man placed a pipe pistol to my husband’s head. Nate’s arms were wrapped protectively around our baby, our Shaun, shouting for them to leave, to back off. My knuckles bloodied from pounding on the cryogenic tube that had just released me from my frozen sleep._

_Don’t take him… Don’t take my baby… Please, take me instead, but leave him!_

_My pleas melded uselessly against uncaring ears._

_BAM!_

_The gun shot ripped through the air, blood splattering the tube across from me… my husband’s blood. My lips were parted in silence, in shock, in terror. Nate’s death not quite hitting me. I watched helplessly as Shaun was taken down the hall, out of my view. No, no, no, nononoNO!_

_My fingers curled around the handle to my prison, rattling the piece of shit for all I had, dry sobs torn from my lungs._

_The cryogenic tube hummed to life, giving a small tired moan in the process. The vents opened once more, leaking fluid and gas into the chamber. No, not again. Please no…._

_But it didn’t matter, resistance was futile. I had no choice._

_And I returned to my bitter cold hell.  
_


	2. Every Story Has a Beginning - Cliche as it Sounds

I awoke with a start, gasping eagerly for air, a singular sheet tangled around my legs, face and hair damp with sweat even as cold chills raked my body, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My eyes scanned the room I was in, pulse wild and uncontrolled. Recognition took some time to sink in.

 

Sanctuary… I was in Sanctuary. It was just a dream. I wasn’t back in the tube… only reliving a memory.

 

I had left Vault 111 nearly a month ago. I’ve been searching for Shaun ever since but have made little progress. Codsworth was helpful, as were the Minutemen I had located in Concord.

 

A wet nose touched my hand, a low whine. “You’re helpful too, boy,” a warm smile curling my lips upwards regardless of the tremble as I stared down at my favorite companion – Dogmeat. I had located him at the Red Rocket station just south of Sanctuary and we had been inseparable since. I would likely go absolutely senile if it wasn’t for him. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I was already there and just teetering on the brink of insanity.

 

I rubbed a bruised and battered hand over my eyes, breathed in the disgustingly humid, heated air. The drone of the generator in the hallway filled the room. I could hear Mama Murphy singing away to Diamond City Radio ‘Atom Bomb Baby’ though she was so ungodly off pitch it would make a Brahmin run in the opposite direction. The smell of something cooking on the fire made my stomach groan to life.

 

Groggily I pulled the sheet from my limbs, stretched out my arms and stood from the cot I had created for myself out of bits of cloth and steel. I wore little more than a large fraying t-shirt, dirt and grime covering the majority of the fabric. In another life I would have been dissatisfied by the state of my clothing but there are just some things you got used to when you’re in a post-apocalypse world. Other examples were raiders constantly peppering you full of bullet holes, radroaches the size of your head biting at your toes, and feeling the burn of radiation whenever you drank water that wasn’t religiously purified.

 

Dogmeat jumped to all four, bouncing back and forth in the hallway, head stuck in the door as he watched me, tongue hanging lazily out of his mouth. “You don’t mind the heat much, do you?” I asked, to which he cocked his head to the side and offered a playful yelp.

 

I tugged on some ratty jeans and a red plaid shirt over a white tank that was stained from god knows what. As I shoved my feet into a pair of combat boots, I tucked my long auburn hair into a pony tail, brushing back the strands that did not quite reach behind my ears. I pushed past Dogmeat who followed at my heels. Moving into the hallway, I noticed that the room next to mine was empty, meaning that the Longs were up already, likely picking mutfruit and tatos in the garden out back.

 

“Morning, Blue Eyes,” Mama greeted from her position in the big green chair I had crafted for her when we first arrived. “Any plans for today, hmm?”

 

I presented a lop-sided smirk in response, shaking my head slightly “Nothing more than getting that generator over by the front gate up and running so we have some flood lights over the bridge.”

 

“You best be careful now, don’t want the others getting all worked up over you again, not after what just happened.” Her gaze fell to Dogmeat, eyes twinkling in the poorly lit room. “You take good care of her now, you hear me?” He barked back in response, nose scrunching, tail wag increasing in speed. “Sturges is making breakfast, best eat before starting to work.”

 

I nodded obediently and ducked out of the dilapidated house through the open door, the paint on it long gone. Sturges was seated at the cooking station, bent over what looked like a few hunks of radstagdoe skewered through with barbed wire pieces. It was crude, but functional. “Smells good,” I commented as I moved closer, taking a seat on the cement, ignoring the way my ass protested, muscles complained, and back bitched. Sorry body, no such thing as Tylenol in this world.

 

“Good morning to you too, Ash. Didn’t know you were awake already. Couldn’t sleep?” Sturges eyed me sideways, a worried look embedded into his irises. He was concerned for my health. I couldn’t blame him. I was unstable at best and reckless to the point of no return. Trigger happy paired with crazy didn’t make a very survivable combo out here.

 

“Nah. I’m good, don’t worry about it.” For them, for all of these people in Sanctuary, this was normal. None of them knew what it was like pre-nuka-hell. But I did. I remember waking up and taking a hot shower, using actual soap to clean myself, brewing coffee and drinking it out of mugs that I didn’t have to pick mold out of before use. I remember reading the morning paper and laughing at cartoons with my husband, of singing to Shaun in his crib, planning his future. But that was 200 years ago. And I wasn’t part of that world any more.

 

I snatched one of the skewers off the pit, picking at the meat with my fingers and placing small chunks in my mouth before chewing. It tasted similar to venison, plus the added flavor of radiation. _Yuuum_. Funny, I knew so little about radiation prior to waking up in the apocalypse but I was learning quickly. It made the sun blazing hot, the air sticky and taste like metal, the water barely drinkable as it burned your throat, and coated food that wasn’t fully cooked. It scorched your skin, charred your gut, and was a bitch to wash out of your clothing and hair.

 

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. “You doing better?”

 

Preston; I could recognize that voice anywhere.

 

“If you mean better in the sense that my sanity is in check and everything is sunshine and rainbows, not really. If you mean my busted leg? Yep.” I winked up at him but was only met with apprehension.

 

“You had us all terrified, the way you came limping back in here, blood caked to your armor, barely able to say a word before you passed out. Had I known that sending you to Finch Farm was going to result like this, I would have sent you with backup.”

 

“I had Dogmeat,” I pointed out, gesturing with a tilt of my head towards my ever lovable companion.

 

Preston’s lips pulled together in a thin line before he replied, “You did, however, he doesn’t have a gun or any real way to protect you on patrol.”

 

“We could always mount an automated turret to his back if it makes you feel better. I’m sure Sturges and I could come up with something.”

 

Sturges paused for a moment, seriously considering the possibility before Preston whacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t give into her ideas.” The mechanic gave a cheesy, innocent smile at me as Preston continued, “We just want you safe. You’ve done so much for us in these past few weeks, losing you would hurt… everyone.”

 

_No, pal, it would hurt you. Specifically, you_. It was no big secret that Preston cared for me though he did everything in his power to hide it. If Mama Murphy hadn’t hinted at it a week ago, I probably would have gone on in ignorant bliss, too locked in my own headspace to pay attention. Was there anything wrong with Preston? Fuck no. He was kind, protective, nurturing, and helpful, if not a little stern. But it was obvious he cared. But that didn’t mean that I could shake off the fact that I lost my husband a month ago… or at least, what felt like a month ago. Honestly, I’m not even sure how long ago I watched Nate die in that Vault on the hill. However long it was, I clearly wasn’t over it, the wedding band on my left hand a symbol of that. I should move on, that’s what I told myself. But, not yet.

 

“I’ll be more careful, Preston. I promise.” I gave a reassuring grin and an enthusiastic thumbs up. He sighed heavily but seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders as he took a seat next to me.

 

The Longs joined us shortly thereafter along with several of the other settlers in Sanctuary. Some of them were farmers, others manned the wooden guard posts, and a select few ran the shops over on the foundation west of the main building. They sold odds and ends from the caravans that stopped through the settlement every few days – ammo, provisions, armor pieces, food that wasn’t entirely destroyed by radiation, and chems (though we kept those away from Mama as best as we could).

 

They all greeted with warm smiles and happy faces – an expression I wish I could give in return on a regular basis but I struggled to even reply with a genuine welcome. I knew this was all normal for them, that this was the life they were born to. I was the abnormal one, the freak, the odd woman out.

 

Even after a month it was difficult for me to remember that.

 

- **oOo** -

 

“Screwdriver,” Sturges requested, hand outstretched towards me as I gave the tool a small toss to him.

 

I unwound the coil of copper from my belt, snaking one end around the spotlight in front of me. I had already built up my fair share of calluses making a once painful task, simplistic.

 

“Wrench,” he called again.

 

“Fuck, why don’t you just take all the tools while you’re at it?” I quipped, grumbling as I rummaged in the red metal box at my feet, locating the item he was demanding and handing it over.

 

“Because this is practically the only form of communication we can get from you, so I might as well keep at it right?”

 

I snorted, lifting the spotlight into position. I made my way to the generator, careful to make sure the wire in my hands was taut and untangled. Using clippers, I snipped it at the spot I needed, connecting it to the generator as Sturges finished up the repairs.

 

“Okay… that should…” he started, stepping away from the machine, “… do it,” and he flipped the switch. The little beast jumped to life, buzzing away merrily as if it was never broken to being with.

 

“Perfect, as always,” I congratulated. The spotlight began to swivel in its spot, light on and ready to provide coverage when night fell. “Try to sneak up on us now, raiders,” I mocked.

 

Sturges began to gather his equipment, tucking tools back in the red crate. I helped but my eyes kept drifting out over the bridge. “What are you thinking, Ash?” he questioned after a long pause, stopping mid-put-away to give me an unyielding look. “You’re not going back out there, are you?”

 

My lips parted to reply but he didn’t give me a chance before cutting in, “You know Preston doesn’t want you to leave the settlement till your leg is fully healed.”

 

“It’s fi-“

 

“Stop lying, Ash. You’ve hardly put any weight on it all day and you do this little wince whenever you do. Why are you so hell bent on returning to the wasteland?”

 

“Because…” I ran a hand through my hair, eyes scanning the horizon. “Because Shaun is out there somewhere and I have to get to him. I can’t just sit around here, waiting for an infant to find me. I don’t know about this time but, 200 years ago, babies weren’t born with the ability to walk or ask for directions to their mothers…” I didn’t mention that being with the Minutemen wasn’t fulfilling for me, or that I was going absolutely stir crazy with every passing second. I know I was helping a lot of good people, that Preston enjoyed my presence, and that having a belly full of albeit radiated food was better than having an empty one, but I couldn’t deny that there had to be something more worth doing out there.

 

At least, something that would be able to distract me from Shaun more so than building structures and generators.

 

Sturges cursed under his breath, switching his weight from foot to foot as he played with his choices. He knew stopping me was a waste of effort on his part. But he also knew that Preston would be furious if he found out I left and Sturges had known about it. “What am I supposed to tell the lead guy?”

 

“Whatever you want to tell him.”

 

“You realize that not’s very helpful?”

 

“You realize that it won’t be my problem once I’m gone?”

 

“How are you even going to leave without him knowing? He wakes up before everyone else and takes the final watch of the night.”

 

“You’d be amazed how creative I can be.”

 

He exhaled slowly. “Just… be careful, Ash.”

 

I tilted my head towards him, a coy smirk playing across my full lips, bright blue eyes sparking with excitement. “When have I never not been?”

 

- **oOo-**

 

Turns out ‘creative’ simply meant squeezing my tiny self out of the window in my room, pack slung over one shoulder. I had crammed the bag full of stimpacks, radaway, bullets for my rifle and handgun, bandages, corn, and Fancy Lad Cakes (because they were delicious and practically the only thing I had that reminded me of my life before now). It also held some more personal belongings: Nate’s ring, Shaun’s teddy bear that I had managed to find buried in a pile of rubble, and a picture of the three of us the day after he was born. It was stained with rain water and mud, the edges crumpled and damaged… but I could still recognize us. I could still remember us, and how we used to be… Before… Before those men came in and ruined our lives.

 

Dogmeat whined, paws pattering along the base of the window frame.

 

“Ssshh,” I hushed him, waving my hand in his general direction, couching low in the bushes and praying no one heard him. According to my PipBoy, it was a little after four in the morning. The sun, and thus heat, hadn’t woken up yet, leaving the majority of the Commonwealth shrouded in darkness. The caravan owners were asleep, Brahmin conked out in their stalls, and the settlement quiet. A gentle breeze from the north occasionally tickled the back of my neck but otherwise? Complete and utter silence.

 

Which only amplified Dogmeat’s continual pestering. “I can’t take you with me!” I whispered, poking my head back through the opening to give him a once over. I understood he wasn’t thrilled with the concept of me going anywhere without him but… I wouldn’t get past the guards with him at my side. “I told you, follow me tomorrow afternoon when no one is looking. You can do it, you’re a dog. You have scent and tracking and whatever the hell else you have up your… paw.” I rolled my eyes and pressed my chin against the frame, fingers reaching over to touch Dogmeat. I get it, he’s an animal and shouldn’t understand a thing I’m saying but something in my gut told me he could. Or maybe I had been listening to Mama Murphy too much while she was dosed. “Please, boy, I _need_ this. I need to get out of here. I can’t find Shaun while I’m stuck here.” That and I’ll go crazy if I stay. I had too much time to think, too much time to dwell on what had happened. No, the longer I could keep all of those memories and heartache tucked away in the magical box at the back of my head, the better.

 

I’m sure a psychologist wouldn’t agree with that but, last I checked, that profession wasn’t really a thing anymore.

 

Dogmeat’s tongue lapped at my fingertips, head nuzzled against my palm.

 

It was the best answer I was going to get.

 

“See you in a few days, buddy,” I gave him one final pat. “You be good. Don’t growl at Preston too much.”

 

And with that, I was off.

 

I stayed close to the house and low to the ground. My boots were all but soundless as I skimmed along, careful not to disturb too much of the dirt and debris for fear that Preston would suddenly become a professional hunter and be able to track my foot prints. With no professional training on espionage or spy work in my resume, I had only my brief understanding of how television portrayed stealth at my disposal… which was essentially useless. Still, I managed to make it around to the back of the house without waking up every single person in Sanctuary.

 

I was more or less pleased with myself.

 

Peeking around the corner assured me no one was present though the light in Preston’s room across the road was on. He was up. Somewhere.

 

I glanced back to the river. My goal was simple: get there.

 

Okay, I sucked at planning. I was great at winging it, great at thinking on my toes… but when it came to actual tactics and strategy? Yeah I fucking sucked. At least I knew where my weaknesses were. I managed to stay alive this long… I could manage to get to the other side of the damn river without getting caught.

 

At least that’s what I kept telling myself. I wasn’t super convinced yet.

 

I did another scan, this time towards the bridge. There were a few guards on post, I could see the barrels of their snipers from here, the moonlight just strong enough to twinkle off the shined metal. They were likely newly trained, much like all the settlers who arrived at Sanctuary. However, if they managed to scope me and thought I was a raider? I would be dead. Boom. A blood splatter against the other bank of the river.

 

One of the men moved further west, down along the slope and away from me. Good. The other stayed in position. Bad.

 

He raised his hand, waved to someone. I scanned over. Preston. Shit. Double bad.

 

Their voices were faded from here, inaudible. I strained to hear the tiniest bit of exchange but came up short. And Preston appeared to be staying for good, feet planted. Triple bad.

 

Part of me wanted to back out, parted of me wanted to scurry my sorry ass back to my bunk, curl up under the blankets, and call it a good attempt. Part of me was a chicken. But… the other part? The larger part? It knew that if I did that, I would be sentencing myself to death. This life wasn’t for me. I needed more, I needed much more than what Sanctuary was providing. Yes, I was doing a ton of good, I was helping a ton of people. But I couldn’t live like this anymore.

 

Taking in a slow breath to calm my nerves, my gaze fell back on the river.

 

It was not close by any stretch of the imagination. If I was too loud, they would see me. If I stumbled, they would see me. If I made too big of a splash when I entered because I was a dumb ass and slipped on a rock, they would see me.

 

_No pressure._

 

I checked on Preston and the guard once more. Their backs were turned away from me, focused on something else.

 

I exhaled, attention returning on my goal.

 

_Now_.

 

I launched forward, pushing myself ahead with my momentum and racing across the open field. My hand stayed pressed against my pack, forcing it to my hip so the contents inside wouldn’t juggle about. A quick look told me they were still unaware, encouraging me to pick up speed. My build was slender, my height minimal; all of it was working in my favor for once.

 

Within a matter of seconds I had made it to the pebble ridden shore. I tucked myself low, breath coming in controlled pants, heart drilling out a steady beat. I knelt low, fingers dusting the edge of the water. The PipBoy on my wrist prattled to life, ticking out my Geiger counter. But the guards were too far away, they wouldn’t be able to hear it from their positions.

 

Which meant Preston too would remain in the dark.

 

At my spot along the river, the water was shallow, perhaps only reaching about knee height at the deepest. By the bridge? Way over my head with jarring rocks that would skewer me through if I wasn’t careful. The flow was safe here, the current regular, nothing that would pull me away. It was manageable.

 

I stood gradually, eyes never leaving the front gate. When I was three thousand percent sure they had no fucking clue I was there, I concentrated on the task at hand.

 

A handful of boulders of varying degrees of slipperiness stood between me and the other bank. With a tentative approach, I reached out to the first with my right leg. When I was certain I wouldn’t go into the water, I moved my weight over to it, bringing my left leg out for the next.

 

Just like when I was a kid, playing in the river…

 

I moved from rock to rock, arms spanned out at my shoulders for balance.

 

I could remember sitting on the shore with Nate when we were still dating. I could picture his smile, almost hear his laugh. The way his eyes would sparkle with amusement as I made a face at the frog he held out to me. We both wound up soaking wet from head to toe by the time we left and-

 

“Shit,” I cursed, foot sliding out from under me, plummeting into the cool radiated water below.

 

“Did you hear something?”

 

“It was over there.”

 

“I’ll check it out.”

 

I dashed out of the water, not caring for the sound I made. Pants soaked, boots heavy, skin burned and sizzled where the river kissed it. I hissed, blinking past the sharp pain.

 

“Someone get a light over here!” Preston shouted as he got closer.

 

_Move, damn it!_

 

Ignoring my new injuries, I flew across the river and tumbled onto dry land. I was on the other shoreline, speeding for the trees by the time they arrived at my starting point. I tucked myself behind an oak, the branches long since bare of their leaves and flowers, and held my breath.

 

My heart beat haphazardly in my chest, rhythm now chaotic and untamed. I feared they would be able to hear it.

 

“You see anything?”

 

A pause…

 

An agonizingly long pause.

 

Preston finally replied, “Nothing. Probably just a startled doe. Nothing to worry about. Raiders would have gone into the settlement, not away. Return to your posts.”

 

I waited for their footsteps to retreat, waited until there was silence, and then I did a little bit more waiting just to be sure. And then I pried my body away from my makeshift shield, peering around the trunk to guarantee that my possible captors were gone.

 

But I still wasn’t safe, not really. Phase one was complete but I still needed to get further from Sanctuary.

 

Keeping to the shadows, I began my trek southwards. I knew I wanted to get to Concord, Lexington, and Cambridge. Someone in those towns had to know something, or know of where to go to get information. I had to broaden my resources if I wanted to get anywhere.

 

I paused at the Red Rocket gas station, bumping open the swinging glass door with my shoulder as I entered. The place was almost unrecognizable from its former glory. The once red stools lay mangled and broken on the dirtied tiled floor. The posters were torn, images all but invisible from years of being in the sun.

 

Still, it was good enough. Moving to a back room, I found a suitable place to bunker down for a few hours until the sun came up. After locking the door, I dumped my pack on the ground and took a seat beside it.

 

Combat and I were not the best of friends. I knew little of proper shooting mechanics or even the basics. I could defend against molerats and radroaches just fine but… ghouls and raiders? Not so well. Stealth helped in some instances, allowed me to sneak by whole encounters or take people out one at a time. But it wasn’t going to do a damn bit a good once I hit the cities.

 

I rested my head against the back wall. I could worry about it in a few hours.

 

For now… For now I would patch myself up and get a few winks of shut eye.

 

And prayed no one would find me.


	3. Meeting the Brotherhood

A rattle on the door handle startled me awake with a gasp, sleepy heavy eyes groggily scanning the room. My brain hadn’t kick started yet, the hamster still conked out on its wheel.

 

_Where am I again?_

 

Hushed voices filtered in, “Damn thing is locked. You got a bobby on ya?”

 

“Naw man, and you know I’m not any good at that shit any ways. And neither are you. Last door you tried to pick, you broke.” Both men, both with gravely voices. Settlers? Raiders? I couldn’t tell from inside.

 

Recognition flickered to life. The Red Rocket Station… Shit.

 

I fumbled for the gun I owned, the rifle nestled in its holster on back of my pack. It still felt foreign to me no matter how much training Preston had attempted to put me through. Shooting at empty Nuka Cola bottles wasn’t the same as shooting at a live target – one stood still and politely waited for you to shatter it, the other had the whole ‘preserve life’ instinct and would bob and weave all over the fucking place.

 

“There’s gotta be something good inside for it to be locked.”

 

“Man, who cares. Let’s get back.”

 

“Chancer’ll be pissed if we don’t bring anything.”

 

“She can kiss my white ass. Bitch has gone off the deep end recently.”

 

Chancer? I’d heard that name before. Well, _read_ it. Chancer was a leader for one of the raider gangs that littered the Commonwealth. Her name had been listed on a terminal back at the Ironworks. All of the head honchos kept tabs on the others, kind of like a network of diabolical scumbags.

 

But this did confirm something for me: I was dealing with raiders.

 

I lifted my bag onto my shoulders as I stood on unstable legs, my gun rested awkwardly in my arms, the shooting bit aimed in the general direction of the door. The knob rattled again, one of the two men cursed loudly.

 

“Think we could just bash it in?”

 

“Looks pretty sturdy. Not sure we can do that.”

 

“We could always just, I dunno, _try_. You got any better ideas hot shot?” Irritation, annoyance. Someone’s patience was wearing thing. “I’m not a fan of just sitting around and waiting for results. We gotta bring something back with us. No fucking way am I being put on cook duty again. Fuck that shit.”  

 

The door shuddered in its hinges, the wood moaning in protest as one of the raiders slammed his shoulder against the precious barrier separating me from them. With another heave, it cried louder but still refused to budge. I recoiled, sinking further into the room, spine pressing against one of the exterior walls. My blue eyes flashed around the enclosed space. There had to be another way out… Most buildings pre-war had alternative routes in case of a fire…

 

 _There_.

 

Far above my head was a window, just large enough for me to fit through. Getting to it, though, was another matter entirely.

 

Again the raiders ran at the door, again it quaked in reply, this time with the added sound of oak splintering. I was going to run out of time if I didn’t act quickly.

 

Holstering the rifle, I grasped one of the desks along the far wall. Crouching down, I forced all of my weight against it, encouraging the desk to grind across the tiled floor. The counter screeched as metal grated on ceramic causing me to wince as my ear drums cringed.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s coming from inside the room!”

 

“Someone’s in there.”

 

“Get this door open!” Their efforts began again, this time with renewed vigor. Amazing what a difference a chance at bloodshed could make for these guys.

 

“Come on, come on,” I grunted, a sweat breaking out along the top of my forehead, auburn hair sticking to my face. Close enough, it would have to work. I scrambled up onto the structure, fingers outstretched for the latch on the window. Knowing I had precious little seconds left, I nimbly flipped the lock mechanism and edged the glass open. I jumped to bridge the gap, having to hold my one hundred pounds plus gear on nothing but my fingertips, I hissed in a pained breath as the frame cut into the soft skin of my hands, not quite drawing blood but enough to make me acutely aware of the metal’s presence.

 

The door buckled, hinges on the verge of giving up as I hoisted myself through the opening. Half way through I twisted my body around so my back was facing the ground, grasping the top of the window frame for support as I yanked my legs through. My thigh screamed, white hot agony rocketing through my senses, reminding me that I still wasn’t fully healed. But right now, right now it didn’t matter. Right now, I had to breathe through the pain and _get out._

 

I landed heavily on the other side, my balance almost lost as I tumbled a few paces until I regained my composure. A crash from the inside indicated that the raiders were finally through, their angered voices echoing out through the window.

 

“Where’d they go?”

 

“Up there! Though the window!”

 

“Holy fucking hell, leave me alone,” I muttered, grasping a grenade from my belt. Guns… guns you had to aim and you had a narrow margin of accuracy if you sucked at using them, like I did. However, grenades? Grenades were wonderful devices. As long as you got it in the close vicinity of where you wanted it, the damage was massive. Perfect for shit soldiers like myself.

 

Pulling the pin free, I lobbed the grenade back through the opening… and took off running in the opposite direction. Their surprised shouts were audible just before the pint sized nuke detonated, the explosion blasting outwards. The force was enough to send me sprawling into the dirt, the wind forced from my lungs. My face bashed harshly against the earth. I coughed, sucked in air to allow oxygen to my brain, blinked a few times to clear the dust from my vision. As I moved to a crouching position, I ran a hand across my face… flinching when my head ached where it had contacted with the ground. That was going to leave a bruise.

 

But I at least was in the clear for a moment. Still… It wasn’t safe here… not anymore. Staying here meant others would likely follow. Sanctuary would be fine with all of their turrets and fire power but I was on my own. It was time to move.

 

Reassuring that my pack was securely in place, I stood fully, stretching out my sore muscles. Then sun was just beginning to peek out over the horizon, cascading an orange glow across the Commonwealth. The Red Rocket Station’s shadow reached out towards the sinking night sky and, with it, the crisp November air.

 

“Not how I wanted to start my morning,” I whispered to myself, peering down at my PipBoy, tapping the screen a few times to wake it up. “And too damn early.” The clock read 0630. I had only been asleep for a little over an hour.

 

With a heavy sigh I turned myself south towards Concord. My goal was to make it to Cambridge before I took a break. Even with my head pounding and leg nagging, I could manage a decent walking pace.

 

I had to.

 

- **oOo** -

 

Two hours later I was making my way into the northern edge of Cambridge. The post-nuka-hell air pressed down around me like a thick blanket, making my shirt plaster to my back. It was suffocating; the heat pounding and enduring, sinking into everything it touched. The humidity made it nearly impossible to get a good breath in, running was out of the question. The buildings provided little shade, and what was present wasn’t enough to drown out the sun’s wraith.

 

I paused then, leaning against the side of what used to be a post office. The lobby was empty, counters void of workers, files overturned and tossed haphazardly around the stained carpeted floor. A shadow of its former glory, like the rest of the city. Sometimes it felt like I was dreaming, like none of this was real – just figments of my memories contorted into a grotesque reality I didn’t want to believe in.

 

But, this wasn’t a dream, and I was already awake.

 

With a heavy sigh I pushed away from the building and started my trek once more.  

 

I vaguely wondered if Preston had noticed my absence as of yet. Or if he found out that Struges had known of it all along.

 

_Sorry, man, hope you came up with a half-assed decent excuse as to why I wasn’t turning up for guard duty. If I wasn’t back by the end of the day, I was certain Garvey would send a search party after me. I doubted he would just shrug it off and move on. I wouldn’t be lucky enough for that shit._

 

The scoped rifle kept up a steady thump as it bounced against my leather armored back, the 10 mm pistol cozy at my thigh in its holster, and my grenades secured to my belt, resting against my hip. I felt safer with the gear even though I was less than adequate at using it. I thought of it was insurance – it was there if I needed it, even though it was complete and utter crap.

 

I crossed the uneven terrain with ease, muscles relaxing the more I walked. I did my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my left leg with each step. _Sorry, honey, the apocalypse wasn't a world for sissies, best to just walk it off.  But even I had to admit Preston was right about one thing: I should have brought more backup. The second I heard that I would be going up against the fire-loving Forged raiders, I should have turned tail and gone for help. Instead, me and my thick head went charging into the Ironworks like I owned the damn place._

_FYI, Molotovs and cotton didn’t mesh well together, not unless your intention is to go up in flames… like my leg. It was on the mend now, sure, but, if I wasn’t careful, it could easily get infected…_

_And I was pretty fucking certain that there wasn’t going to be a ready supply of antibiotics if that were to happen._

According to my mental GPS, I was nearing Main Street, and if my memory served me right (which it very well might not considering that the world can do a mighty lot of changing in a 200 year span of time), the subway tunnels and police station weren’t too far off. I hadn't traveled this far away from Sanctuary as of yet. This was bad because I was waltzing my gorgeous ass into unfamiliar territory but good because I may get a new lead as to what happened to my baby boy.

 

Unfortunately, I knew nothing of his kidnappers. Didn't think to glance at their clothing for any sort of insignia or sign that would give me a lead. At the time, I had only one thought on my mind: give me back my baby. Foolish on my part, idiotic.

 

I shook my head, sighing as I begrudgingly trudged past the towering buildings. I remembered Lexington being a crown jewel before the bombs destroyed it all. The once glistening buildings were a crumbled heap of cobblestone and brick, caved in roofs, and bent and broken sign posts. Shattered glass littered the ground, large cracks adorned most of the streets. If I listened carefully, I could hear the sound of molerats just below the surface. Best to tread lightly.

 

Faded gunshots in the distance, towards what I assumed to be the police station, brought me to a halt. I crouched behind an overturned car, peering out around the hood to get a glimpse of what I was walking into.

 

The open expanse ahead of me was shrouded in concrete. The subway station was off to the right with a few alley ways winding back into the larger structures that dwarfed the streetway. Sun glittered off of the window panes that remained, the air calm.

 

_Too calm._

 

A low moan just ahead of me caught my attention as a feral ghoul oozed out from behind a downed mailbox. It wavered to its feet, steps uncoordinated and sloppy, arms limply swaying with each movement, jaws slack. Its head swiveled from side to side, golden eyes squinting, teeth chatting.

 

I could recall the first time I saw a ghoul – the way my heart raced and ached in unison. Both terrified but remorseful for what happened to these people. Unlucky enough to be without a vault for shelter, pounded with radiation when the bombs dropped… Their bodies mutated into little more than zombies, brains roasted beyond repair. They lived tragic lives… Their only desires were to kill and eat and sleep. It used to break my heart, knowing I would have to shoot them, these innocent people.

 

Now? Now they were little more than a fucking obstacle between and my son and I had no qualms with blowing their brains out through the back of their skulls.

 

It sounded brutal but it was a dog eat dog world, kill or be killed. I learned that the hard way once and I wasn’t going to sit around on my ass and be fooled twice. No. I had a son to rescue, and _nothing_ was going to get in my way.

 

I habitually bit my bottom lip as I gingerly edged around the corner of the parked car, keeping my right shoulder to the vehicle as I turned, raising my rifle and taking aim. On inhale, I ensured that my aim was perfect, on exhale I fired. The bullet pierced through the air, whistling as it zeroed in on the ghoul’s skull… and soared right past it. The beastie pivoted on its feet, gawking at me with a dumbfound expression plastering on its decaying face. It lurched towards me, arms outstretched and it ambled my way. I scampered out of cover, dancing to the right. The rifle felt uncomfortable in my hands, too big for me to hold properly.

 

But now wasn’t the time to quibble and come up with dumbass excuses.

 

Launching forward, I raced towards the ghoul. Using the momentum to swing the butt of my gun around, I pummeled the face of my opponent right as its fingers moved to grab ahold of my chest. "Sorry buddy, I don't sway for your type." If the weapon was useless to me as a gun, I was going to have to use it for melee. It wasn’t perfect but it would suffice.

 

Another feral sauntered into the street, exiting from an alleyway and what I assumed to be the source of the commotion that had originally forced me to slow down.

 

If I could get to the shooting, I could get help.

 

The ghoul made eye contact with me, saliva pooling out of the corner of his agape mouth, nose punched inwards, and skin peeling. My stomach twisted, bile rose in my throat. I had to get past him to get to the station.

 

I started forwards, zigzagging across the expanse rather than opting for a direct route towards my target, the gunshots in the distance grew louder the closer I got. Shrapnel and dirt plinked off the sides of buildings and cars, the echo of someone shouting orders to comrades. Not raiders but actual people. Just had to get there…

 

I was almost upon the ghoul, he stood a few mere feet from me. My muscles tensed as I began to raise my rifle, brandishing it above my head like a club, and-

 

Ping! Ping!

 

With a gasp I leapt backwards for cover, the ground lurching in response to the detonation as a frag mine exploded in a mass of smoke. My shoulder smashed into a concrete median, tender skin slicing on contact as ghoul guts splattered across the road.

 

I scurried to my feet, eyes wide at the pulverized feral corpse, taking the briefest of moments to thank whoever was listening that the mine had been there. My grip tightened on my rifle as I darted down the alleyway.

 

They alley was more or less deserted but the combat ahead was still heated. The ghouls must have been coming in from another opening. I leapt over a garbage can, squeezed through a chain-link fence, rounded the corner, entered a pair of gates… and instantly came face to face with a laser rifle barrel. I inhaled sharply, raising both my hands (my left still holding my own gun) in the air. "Don't shoot!" I bit out, knowing my face had gone a few shades paler. The owner of the rifle gave me a hard glare, his face the only thing visible amidst all of the power armor he wore.

 

"You nearly got yourself killed, civilian!" he barked in response, his grimace indication enough that I had grievously annoyed him. "We are dealing with a horde of ghouls, now is not the best time to be throwing around heroics."

 

Not the greeting I had expected.

 

"Excuse me?" I snipped back, arching a brow at the man. "I can take care of myself." Which was a huge fucking lie on my part but this ass didn’t need to know that. Tiny details, unimportant.

 

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" he replied, grip tightening on his gun though he did lower it away from my face.

 

"Danse!" a woman from the crumbling steps called, "More are coming! Watch your six!"

 

"On it, Haylen! Rhys, watch the southeast gate!"

 

"Yes sir!" a man I could only assume was Rhys agreed… after he gave me a disgusted look as if I was little more than the gore he picked off his shoes at the end of a long day. Up yours too, buddy. Good to know that my ‘saviors’ were a bunch of biggots.

 

Power armor guy…. Danse… Gave me a once over, the corner of his lips turning down into a frown, likely not thrilled with my ragtag-barely-holding-together armor. "You don't seem well equipped, but as long as you are so sure of yourself, you can offer some assistance."

 

"You wanna make sure I know which way to point my gun before sending me out?" I heatedly commented.

 

I was rewarded with an eye roll.

 

Feral ghouls raced into the fenced clearing, crazed and manic. The sound of gunshots behind me gave evidence that Rhys and Haylen had begun their own assault on the southeast gate, leaving Danse and I to man the southwest. Though his movements were sluggish gratis to all the power armor he wore, Danse was a capable fighter. His tactics were precise, quick, and without hesitation – proof that he had likely years of training to get in his current position. On the other hand, mine were slow, lacking any sort of strategy. I was aiming to be more of a distraction than anything else.

 

And to be of any worth, I knew I had to move up. Shooting and I? Not on speaking terms. But I was very intimidate with melee. I wasn’t strong but my agility could at least work to my benefit. I lunged headstrong into a feral, swinging my rifle in a wide arc, the stock hurtling into the ghoul’s flank and sending him careening into the fence post.

 

“Civilian, you’re too far ahead!”

 

“What-“

 

I slammed against the side of the wooden outpost with an agonized cry, twisted splinters dug into my exposed forearms and neck. Grimy fingers, coated in slime and pus clawed at my armor, arms flailing wildly as I desperately tried to push the ghoul off of me. My rifle dropped uselessly at my feet as I scrambled to get ahold on the feral before his teeth could sink into my shoulder or face. Fumbling for the pistol on my hip granted me with an explosion of pain to the side of my head as my opponent managed to crudely bash me with his free arm.

 

I struggled, kicking and pushing as his jaws neared my throat, grasping out blindly.

 

Metal hands appeared around the sides of the ghoul, yanking him from me before peppering his body full of holes. Danse gritted his teeth, staring down at me. "Stand down, your recklessness will get you killed." He hastily handed me my rifle and rejoined combat effortlessly.

 

I did as ordered and maneuvered back behind him, using his power armor as a means of cover, darting around him to make a few shots before retreating once more. It was safer but I felt powerless.

 

It was only a matter of minutes before the horde deceased, leaving the four of us winded and gasping for air… Okay, that was a lie. _Three_ of us were winded and gasping for air, Danse was peachy keen, sunshine and rainbows.

 

"Good shooting, sir," Rhys complimented, looking little more than a child searching for praise from his adoring parents as he beamed up at Danse. Then his gaze fell to me, turning dark and bitter. "No thanks to you, what kind of tactics were those?" An ugly gash laced around his jawline, deepening as it traveled towards his collar bone. Though he held a chunk of gauze to it, blood continued to seep out around the edges. 

 

"Uh…?" I offered, brows furrowing. "At least I did something. I could have just waltzed on by and ignored this place altogether."

 

"We would have been just fine without you here. You nearly got Danse injured because of your foolishness!" He had a few valid points though based on the injuries both he and Haylen carried, I knew for certain that they had been on the brink of failure before I showed up. I may not have landed a single shot but I was enough to turn the tides in their favor, even if it was just because I was a distraction for the ghouls to fling themselves at.

 

"Oh, should I have skipped merrily on my way? You guys needed my help," I snarled back, sliding my rifle into its leather harness. My head swam from the blow and I was certain I had a good sized laceration running over my cheek bone, nothing a few stimpacks and bandages couldn't fix. _Hopefully_

.

"You should have fucked off!" Rhys continued.

 

"Rhys," Haylen stepped in, gently shaking her head. "We should be thankful she showed up. We may have been able to handle it on our own but we should never look down on help."

 

Rhys waved a gloved hand dismissively and headed into the police station. Haylen let a slow sigh pass her lips, solemnly watching him retreat. "Sorry about him, he gets really… _into_ … his work. The Brotherhood means everything to him."

 

I blinked up at her, confusing coloring my features. "Sorry, the what now?"

 

"The Brotherhood. Of Steel. Patrolling the wasteland and hunting down ghouls, super mutants, and synths in order to make sure that the good people are safe," Haylen was eyeing me as if I had just spoken another language. "Did you get hit a little too hard?"

 

Had I? Brotherhood of Steel? Were they part of the military? Their uniforms indicated that may be the case but I couldn’t be certain. Minutemen, Brotherhood of Steel… what was next?

 

"Haylen," Danse ordered, standing up from the ghouls he had been searching through. "Let's get this civilian into the station, get her wounds taken care of. Then we can talk more."

 

Yes, yes please. I was okay with this. Turns out they would help me. It was a start. And at least I was out of combat for the time being.

 

"Yes sir," Haylen briskly replied, motioning for me to follow so she could lead me inside. "You're going to like it here."

 

Funny, I wasn't so sure about that…


	4. First Steps

The inside of Cambridge Police Station was dimly lit, a few lamps swung rather precariously in their spots offering just enough light to illuminate our surroundings. The floor boards were partially overturned, some sticking up out of the ground in a jutted fashion – perfect for tripping and impaling oneself on. The windows, or at least the ones that were not shattered, were coated in grime and dust making them impossible to see out of. A desk lay across from the entrance, a busted terminal on it and a few bins of folders I assumed held documents on… the Brotherhood. Whoever they were.

 

A handful of sleeping bags dotted the ground, a medical kit or two next to them. Danse trudged through the door on the left, disappearing out of sight for the time being. Rhys huffed away in the corner, arms crossed and a pissed expression geared in my general direction. I was beginning to believe this was his permanent state of being unless gazing at his one true savior: Danse. Barf.

 

Haylen guided me over to one of the sleeping bags, the off-orange color of the blanket making my stomach churn a little… I didn’t want to begin to fathom what all had used this. Though my time in the Commonwealth was limited to a mere thirty days, it was enough experience to warn me against investigating such questions. Some things were better left in the dark.

 

I knelt to a sitting position and raised a hand, fingers skimming along my forehead. My head throbbed, vision danced. Maybe I had gotten hit harder than I originally thought.

 

“You’re getting paler and paler. Rhys, can you grab some water from storage?” Haylen requested, working on undoing the leather straps to my armor, relieving my skull from the goggles and bandanna.

 

“If she’s so damn ‘ _helpful’_ , why don’t you have _her_ go and get it?” he barked back in reply though a hard look from Haylen compelled him to his feet. He skulked over to the cabinet along the far corner of the room and dragged one of the doors open. After a grunt, he slammed the metal container closed and tossed Haylen a water carton and a roll of gauze. His gaze fell on me for the briefest of moments, irises swimming with distaste.

 

I get it bud, you hate me. The teenage drama could end any second now.

 

“Here,” Haylen pulled my attention away from the man as she handed me the carton. She and he were like polar opposites – one sugar sweet and the other bitter sour. Weird how they managed to make such a good team against the ghouls when their personalities differed so greatly.

 

Haylen focused on my injury; blood still trickled from the open gash, matting my hair. I wanted to ask for a mirror, to see how much damage I had taken, but I feared the result. Blood made me queezy. “You took a good hit to the head,” she began, turning my face sideways to get a better angle, “If Danse hadn’t been there-“

 

I sucked in an annoyed breath. “I know, I would have died. I’ll thank him later,” I muttered, rolling my eyes with little humor behind the action. I got it, I was a ticking time bomb. I needed proper training, I needed better gear and weapons, blah, blah, blah. Sheesh, Preston would love the fuck out of these people; the man would probably tote it over my head how I should listen to his advice more often since he clearly knows what he is on about.

 

But… I had to be fair. Between the bum leg and the new laceration, not to mention all of the other times I had been within seconds of death during the past month, they had a point. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right. If it wasn’t for Danse stepping up, I would likely be Human Surprise for the ferals tonight. I shouldn’t have been so reckless.” Without Dogmeat at my side, I felt vulnerable, but I had to leave him back in Sanctuary. He’s a good dog but his inability to remain stealthy would have gotten me caught. I’d give anything for him right now.

 

“No need to apologize. We just want you to be safe. Your help was much appreciated but.., having another death on our hands…” her voice trailed off, a hint of sadness edging into her tone.

 

“Another death?” I questioned, my old law school training kicking in like magic.

 

Haylen peeked over at Rhys, the man giving a sharp turn of his head. He didn’t want her to share. Whatever it was, it was bad. “Let’s just say, the Brotherhood doesn’t usually send three soldiers out to investigate whole sectors.” The topic was off the table… for now.

 

As she began to open a bottle of saline, I scanned the police station lobby once more. There were several sleeping bags, more than what three people would need unless they had some sort of possession issue. There were a variety of duffle bags, packs, and gear along the eastern wall too, seemingly untouched for the past few days based on the amount of dust that had collected on the fabric. No… There had been more of them here at one point. What had happened to them? Where were they now? And why were they here to begin with?

 

I cringed as she began to dab at my temple, the sodium in the saline searing my wound clean, washing the blood away. “You’ve done this before?”

 

“Kind of. Usually it’s the job of a medical officer, like Knight Captain Cade but, seeing as we don’t have one present, anyone can take up the position instead. I’ve received some education during my Scribe training, enough to not kill anyone but I don’t know much more than the basics.” She lowered her hand to change out her rag before returning to her task.

 

I gave an innocent smile. “Sorry, Haylen, that all flew right over me.”

 

A bubbly laugh escaped past her lips, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I thought it might. You really must have gotten hit hard though. Paladin Danse might want to do an evaluation before you leave. Nothing major – we just wouldn’t be in good conscious if we let you walk out of here with your brain missing a screw or two.”

 

“No argument here. Thanks for patching me back up.” I wasn’t sure how such a test would go. I was two hundred and sixty years ancient… but outwardly looked no older than my mid to late twenties. I had a pristine bill of health compared to anyone in the Commonwealth and my knowledge of any current data that would help me clear a neuro assessment was slim at best. But, I had the gut feeling that these weren’t the type of people that would let me wiggle my way out of a situation if they didn’t want me to. And I still needed their help. Perhaps they weren’t of any use to me directly, but there was a chance they could lead me to someone who could help with my missing person case.

 

“How bad is it?” Danse asked as he returned. I half expected to see him squeezing his power armored ass through the itty-bitty doorway when I swiveled my gaze towards him but the bulky outerwear was gone. In its place was a pair of faded denim jeans and a dark green shirt with sleeves that ended just after the crook of his elbow.  The faint outline of dogtags could be seen close to his collar. Was the Brotherhood of Steel some type of military group?

 

“She’s lost a fair amount of blood,” Haylen pointed to the cloths at her side. My eyes widened a fraction of an inch… was that _all mine_? There were at least four bloodied rags, soaked through with crimson. “And I can’t quite get a good enough look at her injury to stitch it up myself. You are better at this than me, care to give it a go?”

 

Danse squatted down next to her, gently turning my head to the left with a calloused hand on my chin, rotating my wounded scalp towards the light coming in from the windows. “Ghoul hit you pretty hard, civilian.”

 

“I have a name you know,” I countered, wincing in the slightest from the movement, world dizzying around the edges.

 

“Get her something to eat, Scribe,” Danse instructed Haylen who nodded obediently before scurrying behind the counter to rummage through an opened box. Moving the soiled rags out of the way and retrieving a fresh one, he glanced at me, the scowl as prominent as ever. “And what name would that be then?”

 

“Ash. Ashtyn Jones.”

 

“Hmm,” he replied, focusing his attention on Haylen as she returned. The Scribe handed me a can of Pork and Beans with a spoon that had likely seen some nasty shit in its time since what appeared to be the dinosaurs. “Let me see what I can do with this, help Rhys get back on his feet. We’ll need him to recon the area to make sure the ghoul threat is neutralized for the time being. I’ll send in a commission for more soldiers here once we get the radio working, hopefully the Elder will agree. You still think you can fix the radio, right?”

 

“Yes, sir. We have similar technology back on the Prdywen. It should only be a matter of rerouting a few wires, connecting any short circuits, and fine tuning the beacon transmission to reach HQ. As long as our target is in range, we should reach them just fine,” she replied as she moved to Rhys’s side, opening another medical kit and beginning work on his jaw and neck.

 

“Outstanding.” With a flick of his eyes to the can in my hand, he ordered, “Eat.”

 

I took a tentative bite of the beans, not one hundred and forty percent certain I wanted to consume something that had been made back in my time. With the blood loss, however, I had little option. I needed to replace my protein and iron. Health class taught me that much. As I chewed, Danse gave a grunt of approval, pleased I was at least able to follow the most simplistic of directions.

 

The Paladin pressed a dampened cloth to my head, forcing me to withdraw with a sharp inhale. I understood the point of wanting to flush out the wound but fuck, did it _hurt_. He muttered an apology but did not cease his task. His fingers moved to brush loose strands of my hair behind my ear, a look of sheer concentration on his face as he cleansed my injury.

 

We settled into a somewhat awkward silence. Rhys and Haylen spoke to one another on the other side of the room, their voices too hushed for me to eavesdrop. Were they talking about me? About their mission? My mind was reeling with questions.

 

Danse broke the quiet after a few moments. “So, where are you from, Jones?”

 

“Jones?” _Oh, right. Military talk, all professional_.  I snorted. “I’m from Sanctuary Hills… Formerly, before that, Vault 111.”

 

That caught his attention, he paused in what he was doing, leaning around so he could look me in the eye. “You’re from a _Vault_?”

 

I nodded. “Sure am.”

 

“Born and raised?”

 

“Uh… No. Not exactly.”

 

His thick brows furrowed, confusion deepening on his face. “So, you were raised in the wasteland and then went to the Vault… and stayed there? And now you’re back out?”

 

“How’s about we agree not to talk about it? That works peachy keen for me, sound good?”

 

He gave a frown but didn’t press the topic. “It does explain your lack of combat expertise. Most vault dwellers aren’t given proper training on weapon use or maintenance.”

 

“Oh, gee, thanks,” I muttered under my breath.

 

“It’s only the truth, Jones. Unless you mean to tell me that you let that feral bash your face against the outer perimeter of our base _on_ _purpose_.” He grabbed a spool of string and suture kit from the crate at his knees.

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered, a defensive tone overlaying my words.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’ll need some practice if you want to survive out there.”

 

I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain from digging myself a bigger hole.

 

“I’m going to begin stitching this up, it’s going to hurt.” I kept my eyes zeroed in on the emptying can of beans as he worked, wincing once or twice as the thread was cut and tied, the sound of the scissors snipping reached my ears. _Just pretend you’re back at the doctor’s office with a degree carrying expert physician, and not in the middle of a post-nuka-shit-hole-pocalypse with a power wearing ‘Paladin’._

 

“That’s about it, I believe,” he finally concluded, tilting away from me to admire his work. “It’s going to leave a hellish scar but it should heal as long as you don’t do anything too careless to tear the stitches out.”

 

“So, I’m going to live, Doc?” I quipped, dropping the spoon into my can and peeking up at the man.

 

“You’re going to be just fine, Jones,” Danse replied, tone implying that he clearly didn’t get the sarcasm. “You should stay here for a day or two, catch your breath. I can’t tell if you have a concussion or damage under the skull.”

 

“Is that your professional medical advice, soldier?”

 

He made a face but continued on speaking, “Actually _, it is_. When that time is up, we can discuss what you are going to do after.”

 

“Or, are we now?” I replied curtly. This was news to me. Haylen had made it appear as if I was going to get a pat on the back and moseyed out of here as soon as humanely possible. “I didn’t realize that what I do is a concern to you.”

 

“Seeing as you like to run around with a rifle, shooting anything that moves in such a reckless fashion, it kind of is a concern, yeah.” Danse proceeded to pack up the medical kit, leaving the scissors out for cleaning. “Perhaps we can gain something from each other, a trade so to speak. For patching you up.”

 

Oh, this I _had_ to hear. “Do tell.”

 

“Well, I assume you’re all the way out here for a reason. I don’t know if you just lack forethought or if you’re searching for someone or something, but we can help. The Brotherhood is a noble group, aimed at ridding the wastes of ghouls, supermutants, synths, and beasts, while locating and preserving technology of old. We are widespread and have an outstanding network at our disposal with countless resources.” He snapped the medical kit shut and returned it to its home next to the sleeping bag. “We can assist you.”

 

My heart thudded a few extra beats. Was he offering to help find Shaun, my baby? Could he really do that? If he had the resources he said he had… I could have an increased chance of finding out information as to where my son may have been taken. I couldn’t pass down an offer like this but… “What’s the catch?”

 

“The catch? You assist us. Help us in our cause, and in return, we will help you.” Danse turned to me, providing me with his full attention.

 

“Are there any guidelines I should know about?”

 

“Aside from follow orders, which I know will likely be a challenge for you, and not shooting any of us? Not really. Oh, and of course, we’ll have to know what it is we are looking for or what your goal is.”

 

On one hand… I should return to Sanctuary, gather my belongings and discuss this with Preston and the rest of the Minutemen. Though I didn’t really owe them any loyalty, I did find them first and my allegiance was technically with them. However, doing so would damn me to a life of the same old shit I had been doing before I ran. On the other hand, the Brotherhood was offering me a lead, giving me a chance to find Shaun. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust them with information about not only myself but also what happened to me, could I really turn down this opportunity?

 

No… No, I couldn’t.

 

Besides, no one said I had to tell them anything right now. With their radio down and poor excuse for manpower, they weren’t going to keep their end of the bargain for some time. I would have a few days to mull it over and change my mind if I really needed to.

 

“You have yourself a new soldier, Danse.”

 

“What? You’re letting _her_ join?” Rhys’s voice flew up a few octaves.

 

“You have a problem with the new Initiate, Knight Rhys?” Paladin Danse stood, leveling a stern look.

 

Rhys, as if remembering his place, replied, “Sir, just wondering what skills Initiate Jones could possibly bring to our group, sir.”

 

Danse arched a brow at me, expectedly.

 

“I... Can pick locks? And I’m really good at sneaking?” Oh, shit. What was I good at? Certainly not being put on the spot. My combat skills were… nonexistent. I didn’t know how to shoot a gun aside from how to point it and pull a trigger. Aiming though? Fuck no. Terminals? Complete mystery. Hell, I had nothing.

 

“So, in other words, we are allowing delinquents in then?” Rhys again.

 

“She is new to the Commonwealth,” Haylen pipped up. I wasn’t sure why she was standing up for me but I appreciated the gesture. “Give her some time. We can teach her how to shoot a gun, use power armor, and fly in a vertibird. It’s nothing training can’t fix. Right, sir?”

 

“Correct, Scribe,” Danse gave her a proud smile. “Which will begin tomorrow as long as you are healed enough to do so. For now, Haylen, you and I will scout the perimeter. Rhys, take inventory on the equipment we still have left. And Jones, get yourself familiar with the Station. It’s going to be your home for the next few days, you may as well learn where everything is.”

 

“Sir!” Haylen and Rhys saluted.

 

Danse led the way out with Haylen at his heels after grabbing a few ammo cartons and gearing up. Once they were gone, Rhys got to his feet and moved to the counter and snatched up the clipboard and pencil that rested there. When he realized I was watching him he turned his cool, steely glare at me. “Find something to do.”

 

I cocked my head to the side and got closer, propping my arms up on the desk, returning his expression. “What the hell did I do to you?”

 

“Nothing, Initiative. I just don’t trust newbies, especially ones who have nothing to offer to our cause.”

 

“What can I say to prove that I’m on your side?” If I had to be working with this guy, I didn’t want us to be at each other’s throats the whole time.

 

“You can’t _say_ anything. Actually _do_ something other than get in the way, and maybe we can go from there.” Ah, that cleared it right up. Clear as swamp water.

 

“Thanks, pal,” I retorted, ratcheting the sarcasm meter up several thousand degrees.

 

“Super. This conversation over then? Can I get back to work, _some of us_ have a job to do.” Without waiting for an answer, the Knight put his back to me, shutting me out completely.

 

What a sweetie.

 

Realizing I wouldn’t get any further with him, I busied myself with exploring the Cambridge Police Station while listening to Diamond City Radio. I had been here on a few occasions when I was growing up. I had a younger brother who was adept at pissing off the wrong people: namely, law enforcement. Whether it was selling drugs on street corners or stealing shit from the local Red Rocket Station, he was always getting into something illegal. We tried to keep it from our mother as much as possible… With varying degrees of success.

 

He was part of the reason I wanted to pursue a career as a lawyer. Not that that mattered any more.

 

Aside from the general post-apoc appearance, the building fit my memory perfectly. The left held a bunch of offices. Desks were overturned, computers bashed in, but otherwise recognizable. There was what looked to be a workbench in the back; a torn apart pipe pistol and several other pieces and parts scattered themselves across the space. Someone liked to tinker.

 

To the right of the lobby was a hallway. The right side consisted of the cell block and the left, a janitor’s closet filled to bursting with cleaning supplies that hadn’t been touched in centuries. Stairs wound their way up to the roof where a helipad rested.

 

A garage jutted out from the back. Danse’s power armor laid dormant here along with a mock shooting range of sorts – glass Nuka Cola bottles sat along a wooden two by four that was propped up by cinder blocks at one end. “I have a feeling I’ll get to know you pretty well,” I murmured to it, crossing my arms and staring defiantly at the bottle targets. I raised my left hand, grasped my wrist with my right, and pointed my index finger at them.

 

Who was I kidding? Could I really do this? Become a soldier? I knew next to nothing about this Brotherhood except that they rid the world of baddies and searched for technology of old. That wasn’t a whole lot to go off of… Though more than what the Minutemen had given me. And it sounded like it was enough to keep me more than busy. But, seriously? Wearing specialized armor, shooting fancy weaponry, taking orders, having a rank system? My gut twisted at the thought. This was Nate’s thing, not mine.

 

But if was what I had to do to find my son… I didn’t have a choice.

 

**-oOo-**

“Try again, this time shoot a little lower.”

 

I cursed. I raised the pistol, clasped it with both hands, and stared down the sights. I placed my finger over the trigger, squinted at the Cola....

 

And whiffed _again_. This time too low.

 

“Again.”

 

I groaned. “This is pointless! We’ve been at it for hours.”

 

Danse pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against for the better part of our training session to come and stand beside me, scowl plastered on his face. “Failure isn’t an option, Initiate. And, we have only been here for thirty minutes.”

 

“Well, how do you propose I magically shoot the fucking bottle then? Because, unless you have a miracle hidden away in your power armor, it’s never going to happen.” My arms hung worthless at my sides, frustration flaming my cheeks scarlet. “How the hell am I ever going to be able to do anything if I can’t shoot a damn stationary target?”

 

“There are several improvements you could be doing to increase your chances.”

 

I spun on him, seething, “What, were you waiting for the grass to grow before telling me that?” He had known how to help this entire time and had kept his mouth shut? What the fucking hell?!

 

“I was waiting to see if you could figure it out on your own.” How could he be so calm? So in control? It wasn’t fair. Moving to stand behind me, he grasped my shoulders and faced me towards the makeshift range once more. With his booted foot, he edged my feet further apart, about even with my shoulders and my left foot ahead of the right. “Your stance was poor, leaving you off balance. If you aren’t centered, your aim will suffer. Furthermore, utilizing this position will reduce your threat and make you harder to hit. Raise your gun.” I obeyed. “Now close our eyes.”

 

“What-“

 

“Close your eyes,” sterner this time. “Okay, now picture the range, picture your target. This won’t work on the field but it is good for practice and will help you visualize what you are doing when you are faced with an adversary. Picture its weak points.”

 

“It’s glass. It’s all weak”

 

He sighed, exasperated. “ _Hypothetically_ , Jones. Once you have it, line up your shot in your mind, watch the bullet fire from your gun and embed itself in your target. Got that?”

 

“Yes, can I shoot for real now or are we always going to play pretend?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

 

I snapped my eyes open and fired twice.

 

Glass shattered.

 

My lips parted in surprise. Holy hell, had that actually worked?

 

“Good job,” Danse commended, patting me on the back. “One success out of twenty attempts isn’t a bad start. We will break and come back to this again later. In a few days we should see some improvement. Take a seat and let me check your head, make sure we didn’t overdo it.”

 

I followed him to the garage door and out onto the sidewalk. The sun was already high in the sky, my morning wasted away with training exercises and target practice. My muscles were sore and my heart tired from having to work overtime to compensate. I sat down in the shade and allowed Danse to give me a once over. “Your stitches are still holding. How’s the leg feel?”

 

“Hurts but I’ll live. Probably helping it by moving around.”

 

“Very true, Initiate.” He sat beside me, handing me a fresh Cola. It wasn’t cold but it felt good going down. “So, why are you all the way out here?”

 

I coughed, “Excuse me?” I ran the back of my hand across my lips, arching a brow at the man.

 

“What brought you to Cambridge? Or do you just make it a habit out of running into the middle of combat?”

 

Oh, he meant our deal. He meant Shaun. “I’m looking for something. It was taken from me and I want it back.” I was wary of giving away too many details. With having so little to go off of, I wasn’t sure who I could trust. For all I knew, Danse could be part of the group who kidnapped my son. I had no way of knowing.

 

“Can I get any more clarity as to what this ‘thing is’?” When I didn’t offer an answer he continued, “Listen, I understand secrecy and trust and all of that. But, I cannot help you if you don’t give me something to go off of.”

 

“For now, that’s all I got for you. Sides, your radio isn’t even working yet. No point in telling you the whole story if you can’t do anything about it. The less you know the better.”

 

“Speaking of the radio… Haylen tried fixing it last night when we got back but it turns out that it may not function properly. Rhys and she are going through our reports to see if we can locate our missing piece, a deep range transmitter. If we find it, would you be willing to join me on a mission to retrieve it?”

 

“Wouldn’t Rhys make a better choice?”

 

He chuckled and ran a hand through his mahogany brown hair, shaking out a few of the curls the humidity tried to form. “Under normal circumstances? Yes. Taking a new recruit out, especially one such as yourself, on an important mission would be unheard of. The Elder would disapprove of my decision to do so. But Rhys’s injury is worse than yours and he will need to stay back to ensure that his condition doesn’t worsen. Haylen will remain as well – though she has more training than you, her combat expertise is not exemplary. Besides, it will do you good to get some fresh air. You’re crawling the walls in here.”

 

“Is it that obvious?” I peered up at him.

 

“Affirmative. Your constant pacing when you’re not in training is a dead giveaway. That and how, whenever you’re bored, you’ve taken up pestering Rhys. You’re quite the professional at that. Whatever you’re out here for, it must be important to you.” His expression turned serious as his gaze met mine.

 

“It means the world to me.”

 

“Then I will do all that is within my power to help you find it.”

 

“And I will help you get your thingy for your radio.”

 

“Excellent. Alright, finish up that drink and we are getting back in there. I’ll go set up the bottles.”

 

I watched his back as he disappeared back into the garage. How he was able to remain so patient with me, I would never understand. But… I was thankful.

 

I looked up at the sky, stared past the haze of dust that separated me and it.

 

I was closer… Closer than I was yesterday… and closer than the day before that. It was a start.

 

_I’m coming Shaun… I promise._


	5. Call to Arms, Sort Of

“What the fuck?”

 

_What a lovely way to start the morning._

 

“What the hell is a dog doing here?”

 

Commotion by the front entrance… _I should probably wake up to see what the fuss is about. No reason why a mongrel mutt would cause this much of a problem._ Unfortunately for Rhys, the culprit behind all of this early morning shouting, my eyelids just didn’t want to open. Ah well.

 

“Shit, Danse!”

 

The sound of pawed footsteps raced towards me, a wet tongue dampened my face, a low whine in greeting. Dogmeat’s muzzle nudged against my shoulder, neck, chin, attempting to get my lazy ass out of bed.

 

I blinked lazily up at the mutt, his sparkly bronze eyes beaming down at me. Seems my ever faithful companion had returned to my side.

 

“Good morning to you too, boy. Bout time you showed up!” I cooed, propping myself up on my elbow to get a better look at him. “Should have known I couldn’t keep you away for long.” His fur coat was undamaged, lacking any obvious signs of injury.

 

Rhys stared poisoned daggers down at me from across the room, lips pursed into an almost sneer. _If looks could kill…_

 

I peered at him from over my shoulder, lips curling up into a smirk. “Might want to relax for a second there, pal. You look like you just bit down on a lemon. It’s entirely unattractive.” His mouth snapped back into place, his facial features contorting into a grimace.

 

“Danse won’t like this,” he sneered, gaze darkening further as he scrambled to his feet, jabbing an accusing finger at my dog.  

 

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t report to Danse so I don’t see how his opinion on the matter is going to change jack shit.” Sure the guy was training me but I wasn’t a member of the Brotherhood; I was only here to help with a few missions and then peace out before I could get too attached.

 

Rhys sputtered at that, fists clenched at his sides. Real tough guy act.

 

I had attempted to make nice with him during my stay here so far. I didn’t speak to him unless he spoke to me directly, did everything in my power to not overstep my boundaries (at least when he wasn’t around to see me do so), and kept my personal belongings out of his way. It seemed like nothing I did would please this man. Haylen, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of Rhys, complete other end of the scale. She was kind, her company welcomed. Her main interaction with me was tending to my injury when Danse wasn’t teaching me how to shoot in the garage, assuring that it wasn’t becoming infected. So far, the wound was healing perfectly.

 

And, thanks to the Paladin’s tutelage, I was becoming stronger and stronger by the day. Even though I had only been at the Cambridge Police Station for a mere forty-eight hours, I could already feel the difference. My aim was improving, my reaction time was decreasing, and my ability to critically think in the heat of battle, developing. I still wore new bruises that I earned from making a mistake… But Danse always assured me that I was better than I was when the day started.

 

Danse strode into the room, combat rifle at the ready though he wore nothing other than his BOS uniform, the top half unzipped to reveal a black t-shirt underneath. “What’s going on?”

 

Rhys thrust his chin in my general direction. “Sir! Jones has allowed her mangy mutt into the premises. She is in direct violation of conduct!”

 

“You aren’t mangy,” I whispered to Dogmeat who gave me an innocent yip.

 

Danse glanced at me, his gaze zeroing in on my companion. The corners of his lips turned down in disapproval, not a real shocker there. He exhaled slowly and tilted his attention back to the Knight. “Technically, Rhys, she is no violation seeing as she is not formally a member of the Brotherhood. Her dog can stay…” his tone becoming more serious, if that was even possible, “ _If_ he behaves and doesn’t chew anything up. We have sensitive equipment and documents we cannot afford to be marred. Keep him under control.”

 

I chuckled, exaggerating a salute and replying, “Sir, yes, sir!” I hefted myself into a sitting position and pushed the off-orange sleeping bag cover off of my legs. My muscles ached but in that good way, the kind of way you get after a hard workout.

 

The Paladin rested his gun on the counter before approaching me. Dogmeat tensed slightly but I patted him on the top of his head, scratching behind his ears just the way he liked it. “He’s a big soldier guy, but he’s okay,” I promised him.

 

“Let me see your head,” he instructed, kneeling next to me and gently grasping my jaw to tilt my head to the side. “Haylen?” he questioned.

 

“She should be good to go. Her bandage doesn’t need changing and the laceration is already almost closed. A stimpack should be all she needs to get on her feet,” The Scribe answered from her spot by the window. She had done her latest inspection before we turned the lights out last night.

 

He gave a short nod at her response and released me. “Fit for some field work today, Jones?”

 

Seems it was to keep up my side of the bargain. “Ready as I’ll ever be, sure.”

 

“Good.” He stood then, heading to the cabinets on the far end of the room and rummaging a bit before pulling out what looked like an alloy metal helmet. “In case you were unaware, Jones. This,” he shook the helm, glancing up at me with… was that the tiniest hint of humor I saw in his eyes? “This is a helmet. It protects your head from several things – getting your brains chewed out, from the concussive force of bullets, and oh, the occasional feral ghoul from cracking your head open through the temporal lobe.” He tossed it at me, the helm landing at the foot of my sleeping bag. “I suggest you wear it when we go out today.”

 

I extended my hands, fingers clasping the helm and pulling it closer. The Brotherhood insignia was painted in white on the side – a sword speared through what appeared to be wings, offset by three gears behind it all. My eyebrows furrowed, a puzzled look crossing my face as I looked up to Danse. “ _We_?”

 

“That’s correct, I’ll be joining you today.”

 

I arched a brow, moving to stand. My leg was protesting, still sore from my skirmish at Finch Farms but putting some exercise into the limb would do it good. I hoped. I had always assumed Knight Rhys would be the one to accompany me since he was more than healed enough.

 

“Sir?” Rhys interjected, worry spilling its way across his face. Seems I wasn’t the only one who was surprised by this.

 

“You will remain here with Haylen. Guard the perimeter. With the high amount of feral ghouls in the vicinity, I need your presence at the Station. Jones may be improving in her combat skills but I would feel safer with you here,” his tone implied that there was no wiggle room for discussion. “Jones and I can handle the mission.”

 

Rhys’s shoulders slumped, like a balloon being deflated with a pin. “Yes, sir,” he muttered before dragging himself to stand next to the Scribe, arms crossed and gazed trained on the floor in a pout.

 

I cleared my throat, wanting to break the somewhat awkward silence that had fallen over us. “And what is the mission?” I requested, trying to sound official, like I was taking this whole thing seriously. If this was the help they needed in order for me to get assistance locating my son, I was all for it. But I couldn’t take the whole ‘We Fight the Evil to Preserve Technology’ mantra with earnest. Everywhere in the Commonwealth was a dump, and hardly anyone seemed to care if you completed a good deed aside from the thanks I received from the Minutemen. As far as I was concerned, it was every man (or woman) for themselves.

 

“We are headed to ArcJet Systems. Scribe Haylen reports that there is a deep range transmitter there we could use to fix our radio. With the radio repaired, we can finally communicate to base for backup… and, more importantly for you, we can better locate whatever it is you are searching for. Suit up and meet me outside in 15. We’ll head for the facility.”

 

“Sir,” I agreed, watching his back as he headed out towards the garage where his power armor rested.

 

Dogmeat whined at my side, nose bumping into my calf. “Oh, I’m not leaving you here, buddy. You’re coming with me.” I squatted down to his level and ran my fingers through his fur. “I’m not leaving you, not after you came all this way to find me.” He lapped at my face, tail wagging wildly behind him. I was surprised at just how much I had missed having him with me.

 

Rhys gawked at me. “You’re taking _him_ with you?”

 

“Don’t see why not,” I replied, plopping the helm Danse had given me onto my head and securing the strap under my chin.

 

“He isn’t properly trained!”

 

I shrugged one shoulder as I tugged on my boots, lacing the shoe strings tightly around my leg. “Neither am I.”

 

“He’ll be fine, Rhys,” Haylen piped up. “Ash told me that Dogmeat saved her from some raiders back at the Ironworks.”

 

I winked at the Scribe, thankful she had my back. “Exactly. He may not be trained by your standards, but he isn’t going to go running on front in my gun either.” I buckled the last bit of my leather armor in place and pulled a coat over me to protect me from the harsh rays of the heat. The last thing I needed was a sun burn.

 

“Paladin Danse-“ Rhys started, a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Has no sway over what I do. He can shove it.”

 

I met Danse outside the garage. He was completely encased with power armor, the metal glinting in the sun as he dragged the garage door closed behind us. “How do you move around in it?” I asked, eyeing the set. There was a moment back in Concord with the Minutemen that Preston had tried to urge me into a suit… but my fear of tight enclosed spaces made me shy away from it. We didn’t need a panic attack on our hands. The deathclaw had been enough to handle.

 

“It’s actually quite simple. It’s crafted to fit you perfectly to ensure that walking feels very natural. If you stick around long enough, you could get your own. Course, you would have to be an official member.”

 

“I’ll pass.” The thought of collecting remnants of old technology and being called a Knight sounded ridiculous to me. “But thanks.”

 

“It’s your choice.” He cocked his head towards the alleyway that would lead out to the main road. “Move out.”

 

He took point as we moved through the streets of Cambridge. We stuck to the alleys as much as possible, not wanting to alert any ghouls of our presence. It wasn’t until we were out of the town that Danse’s demeanor relaxed in the slightest. “We will keep to the outer paths from here as to not to draw unwanted attention.”

 

We continued in silence then. Danse was focused on our surroundings.

 

It was sad, really. I guess deep down I had hoped that some shred of my time would remain but, even now, there was nothing. I could scarcely recognize once familiar landmarks or frequently visited locations. So much had changed.

 

I trailed behind Danse as we followed the road west. The street itself was cracked, shattered, and broken; the lines that separated left from right had long since faded and were little more than barely visible streaks bleached by the sun. The poles that once held lamps were withered and worn, some bent over as if the humidity in the air was just too much to bare.

 

Sweat trickled along my neck, matted the lose strands of hair that refused to remain tied back against my cheeks and jaw. The air felt stiff and muggy, breathing in it was difficult at best.

 

Danse seemed oblivious, however, thanks to his power armor. Though the suit was clunky and awkward, I had to admit that it had a few benefits that I did not have at my disposal. Like constant shade from the sun, higher protection from crazed raiders and ferals, and a clear picture of what his major vital signs were.

 

I peeked down at the Pipboy on my wrist, tapping the green screen a few times with my finger to wake it up. This thing was supposed to monitor my health as well but aside from the map function, I had little idea how it worked. Sturges had attempted to educate me on proper handling but my lack of tech savvy didn’t help the situation.

 

I dropped my arm to my side once more and scanned the horizon. Dogmeat had trotted off up ahead and was circling back, nose to the ground. If we had lived during pre-war times, I would have adopted him in a heartbeat. I could picture the pup lopping around a backyard, playing with Shaun…

 

I blinked hard. No, don’t think about. Stay focused on the present.

 

“So, Haylen mentioned something about there once being more of you?” I spoke up, wanting to get out of my own headspace for a breather.

 

“Affirmative,” Danse confirmed. “There were actually two squads before mine. One was very successful; they did a sweep of the Commonwealth and reported back to the Citadel with plenty of pre-war technology and information. They did so well that Elder Lyons agreed to allow another recon team to do a more thorough search. However, they have since gone dark. That’s why my squad is here now. Our mission is twofold.”

 

“To find out what happened to the missing recon team?” I hedged, picking up my pace to keep with him.

 

“Precisely. And to research more into an organization known as the Institute.”

 

I wrinkled my nose. Institute… Preston and Sturges had mentioned them once. Something like the Commonwealth boogeyman. They were rumored to steal children away in the night… but my information about them didn’t exceed past that. To be fair though, my _information_ on anything in this time was pure shit. It was like starting at Ground Zero “I think I’ve heard about them, but what do you know?”

 

“Not much. We have been receiving strange readings that can only be traced on high frequencies on our sensors… We do know they have a close relation to synths. That alone should warrant concern.”

 

“Synths?”

 

He turned to furrow his brows at me, scowl in full force. “Maybe Haylen was right, you _did_ hit your head pretty hard.” He spun his attention front again before answering my question. “Synths are machines, like robots.”

 

I scoffed. “Aren’t robots and synths the same thing then? They don’t sound too different.”

 

“Maybe not in theory. But in practice, they are abominations. Synths aren’t like your average Mr. Handy or Assaultron. They are engineered to look like humans, act like humans.” His voice deepened, his tone taking on a more serious tone, an angrier tone. “But they are killing machines and have only one goal: annihilate humankind. They have no emotions and they are deadly. Thankfully, they are not all like that. The earlier generations of models look very much like the monsters they are. They are easily distinguishable from humans.”

 

I felt a chill run down my spine. “Does that mean anyone could be a synth?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How do you know if they aren’t? They could be anywhere.”

 

“Close observation, always be on your toes. Don’t trust anyone.”

 

I bit my bottom lip, nerves getting the better of me. Then what the Minutemen were saying was true.

 

“So what do you plan to do about it?”

 

“Get backup. If we can get the transmitter working, we can call in the Prydwen and get reinforcement. We have gathered enough information to warrant the Elder being involved. Then, I suppose we find this Institute and take the fight to them.”

 

“Can you really do that?”

 

He didn’t answer, his lips drawn tight into a line. “We have lost many good brothers and sisters… I don’t doubt the Brotherhood, my faith in our mission remains strong. But, I don’t want to see anyone else suffer or die for the cause either. Sometimes death is inevitable, but…” his voice trailed off.

 

The empty sleeping bags, the unused gear. There had been more people in Danse’s squad before now. Haylen had hinted at it, implied that three people were never sent out alone… And Danse had been the one leading them. Did he feel responsible? “Danse-“

 

“We are here,” he announced, cutting me off. I could take the hint.

 

I glanced up at the facility as we closed in. The walls were scarred with graffiti and spatters of blood. The equipment stood slumped over unused in two centuries. The name ‘ArcJet Systems’ was scrawled along the eastern fence as we passed through the gates.

 

“I don’t know what we are going to find inside,” Danse said as he halted just before the entryway. “But be on guard and make no brash decisions. Your combat skills are still weak. Make sure your pup stays back and only comes forward if it is safe for him to do so. We are not running and gunning, but I don’t want to stick around either. Understood?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Utilize cover, be smart.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

 

He gave a stern look but allowed my attitude. “Stay at my six, don’t run ahead.”

 

And then we entered.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Dogmeat whined ahead of me as we descended into the rocket engine test firing room. Danse was banging around somewhere, his power armor making a quiet approach all but impossible (I had tried a few times, only to hear him shout out, giving away my position, and encouraging enemy synths to swarm me – it was real great). With how pathetic of a gunner I was, I only had stealth to rely on when the going got rough… and he seemed determined to rid me of that ability.

 

Aside from some mild scrapes and bruises, I was holding together. We had encountered hostiles early on but, doing as Danse commanded, I stayed in cover and only leaned out of it when I knew I could get a shot. His drive to continue forward, insistent that we not slow down, made keeping pace challenging but not undoable. If I hadn’t had his training, I would be reduced to a puddle.

 

The hostiles we had run into? Synths… but earlier generations. They were fearsome to look at but killable. They were a mess of metal and wiring, electricity buzzing through their frames. Their actions were easy to guess after a few minutes, their programming being their greatest weakness.

 

However, we still didn’t have the transmitter, which meant we had to go deeper into the building.

 

We took the last step off of the metal stairwell, our boots planting themselves firmly on cement once more. Though the outside of the faculty had been in shambles, the inside was intact and structurally sound, even with all the gunfire.

 

The Paladin trudged over to a panel along one of the walls as I squatted next to Dogmeat, ruffling his fur behind his ears. The bottom of the room was barren aside from a few branching hallways. A window pane revealed a another area.

 

“Elevator is out,” Danse reported. “Must be a way to turn the power back on. Look around, I’ll man the perimeter.”

 

“Sure, make me do all the hard work,” I grumbled under my breath, motioning for Dogmeat to follow me down a side passage.

 

“What was that, Jones?” Danse called back, tilting his head towards me.

 

“Nothing… _sir_.”

 

With a slow exhale we rounded the corner, following an assortment of fraying wires that ran the length of the wall above my head. That room behind the glass panel seemed important. I wasn’t sure if it was a control room but it was worth a look. I just had to find it.

 

“Bingo,” I breathed, lips turning up into a small grin as I jogged over to the power station. “No power here either, huh?” My eyes surveyed the small room. There were plenty of random odds and ends, tools and nails, open crates and drawers. I snatched a few items, pocketing them for later. I still wasn’t sure what Sturges had used as an excuse for my absence… Might as well be prepared for anything..  

 

Dogmeat’s excited bark caught my attention. “You find the switch?” I asked, knowing all too well he wouldn’t be able to actually respond. Sure enough, as I made my way towards the back, I was greeted with a rather obvious control panel, a bright green lit up terminal just waiting to be activated. “That should do the trick.”

 

Jabbing my fingers at the keyboard a few times rewarded me with the startup sounds of machines waking to life. They gave some ominous groans but eventually lights flickered on above my head and the crackling of electricity reached my ears. “Perfect.”

 

I returned to the power station, gently knocking on the glass to get Danse’s attention. I offered a thumbs up, pointing at the controls behind me. He gave a curt nod, indicating I could return to his side, that he was ready to board the elevator up to where we believed the transmitter to be located at.

 

“Shit,” I heard Danse curse from outside the room as I began to make my way through the side corridor. _Synths_. Reaching for my rifle, I took aim as I exited the tunnel, Dogmeat racing past me on all fours to barrel into an enemy, effectively dragging the synth to the ground in one fell swoop. Take that, Preston, thinking that Dogmeat couldn’t protect me. _Pfft_.

 

A synth zeroed his sites on me, laser musket firing a few shots in my direction. I ducked, rolling to the right to narrowly avoid getting hit. I didn’t want to know what happened when one of those little beams of light touched me… I had seen Danse reduce foes to piles of ash. I wasn’t too thrilled with the prospect of joining them.

 

I supported my gun up on my knee and aimed once more. My finger closed in on the trigger. The synth took a bullet to the shoulder, its body convulsing backwards before hunching forwards once more. Two more shots left it crippled, crawling on its hands, dragging its legs behind it. I gave a low whistle for Dogmeat to finish it off.

 

My heart beat in my ears but it wasn’t chaotic. This was tolerable. So far.

 

“Head to the elevator!” Danse instructed, backing his power armor suited ass towards our destination. Dogmeat loped ahead of him, snarling viciously at the synths that attempted to come closer. I launched out of the hall, ducking around Danse before settling into the lift. I prodded at the up button, the doors giving a satisfying thud as they closed, offering a metal shield between us and the Institute’s lackeys.

 

Danse’s breaths came easy and controlled. I often wondered if he did everything in his life that way – brushing his teeth just precisely, making sure every piece of hair lay just perfectly in order to allow for maximum aerodynamics when he walked. “The top floor is going to likely be infested with synths. We need to acquire the transmitter and escape quickly. Try not to make any hasty decisions.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, keep to the plan. Get the thing, leave. Cake. Got it. I heard you the first fifty times.”

 

“Jones, I’m serious.”

 

“No shit. Is there a time you aren’t?” I smirked up at the man only to receive a scowl in response. Did he have any other facial expressions or was that just his natural face?

 

The doors of the elevator whooshed open, the telltale sound of drones ahead, their robotic voices filtering into the air. We burst into the room, Danse already firing. I dove for cover against a decapitated office desk, watching as he took down the first round of enemies. I ripped open a few drawers, digging through the contents for anything I could use. A satisfied grin lit up my face as I located a fragment grenade, attaching the mini explosive to my belt for later use.

 

“Jones!” Danse barked.

 

Reloading my assault rifle, I propped my arms up on the top of the desk, steadying my aim and firing a few shots off at the back of a synth a few feet in front of me. It shuddered, wiring short circuited as sparks flickered out from the new hole I had created for it.

 

But my excitement was short-lived.

 

For every one we killed, two more seemed to take its place.

 

There were more of them up here then there had been downstairs. A lot more. Too many. They kept pouring in through an entryway on the other side of the room, guns at the ready and firing at a constant rate. Danse was doing a good job of keeping them at bay as Dogmeat and I stayed behind our protective barrier but…

 

My adrenaline was in full force now. Training hadn’t really prepared me for this.

 

Like I said, firing at stationary targets wasn’t exactly like targeting the real deal.

 

“I don’t see the transmitter!” I could hear Danse call from somewhere off to my right. “One of them must have it.”

 

Because, you know, the situation wasn’t already fucking ugly to begin with.

 

I ducked behind my makeshift cover once more, just in time to see laser beams soar above my head. I peered at Dogmeat who gave me a reassuring nudge. Ever the optimistic. I blew out a breath, blinked a few times. Okay. Time to move forwards.

 

I scooted to the edge of cover, eased myself into a good position, and lunged to the next cart, flinching as a volley of gunfire followed my path.

 

Once again, I was jealous of Danse and his power armor. Having mobile cover must have been nice.

 

I repeated this action a few more times until I had circled around to higher ground, wanting to get a better vantage point. I peeked up over the top, scanned our adversaries. One of them had to have it… If I could find it, we could go.

 

“There!” I shouted, jamming my finger towards one of the synths making its way towards the elevator we had just come up. “Shit… Danse, it’ll get away with it!”

 

If we did noting, the synth would ride that lift down to his buddies below… and likely be gone by the time we were able to get down there (if we could even do so with all of the other synths at our necks). If the transmitter was not retrieved, I would be further than ever from getting Shaun back, from having my life return to some kind of normalcy. Without it, I would continue to be lost…

 

Without hesitation I hurtled forwards, vaulting over the desk I had been bunkered behind. “Jones!” I could hear Danse holler but I paid him no heed, my eyes zeroed in on the synth and his ever closing position to the elevator.

 

I could hear Dogmeat’s alarmed bark.

 

A bullet whizzed past my head, the ricochet off my helmet making my head spin. My vision blurred, I blinked rapidly to clear it. An explosion of pain detonated from my back left shoulder verifying that I had indeed been hit. Still I kept forward. I wasn’t a pile of ash yet. My feet thudded heavily on the linoleum floor, papers flying haphazardly around me as I whirled past. I could feel the stickiness of blood oozing from my back, coating the shirt I wore underneath my armor. I didn’t think it was fatal… _Hopefully_.

 

At about three feet away I made a dive, tackling the synth just as his foot entered the elevator. I slammed the drone into the back wall, slicing my fingers against its metal frame but gritting my teeth against the sting. I heaved the drone away from the wall only to hurl it back against the lift with a strength I didn’t know I had. “Give.” Another slam. “Me.” And again. “The. Fucking. Transmitter!” I screamed with each bang, oblivious to the doors closing behind me, to Danse calling my name on the other side. I only wanted one thing and this damn synth was between me and it.

 

Finally the robot halted in its defense measures, body going limp in my now blood soaked hands. I snatched the transmitter from its fist, cradling the device against my chest. My breaths were rapid, uneven, crazed. My heart pound out an unsteady beat in my ears so loud I worried the people of Sanctuary could hear it from here. My lungs felt as if they were on fire, my throat burning from the all too quick flow of oxygen back and forth.

 

“Danse, I-“ Only then did I become acutely aware of the descending box I was located in. My eyes flicked up to the panel above my head… going down…

 

The doors would be open soon… and I would be covered in bullet holes. Working fast I pounded my fist against the ‘Up’ arrow on the dash, looping the transmitter into the harness at my waist for safe keeping. Reaching on tip toes I managed to unlock the hatch above my head, crawling on top of the lift through the hole it provided.

 

Below me the elevator doors pinged open, a torrent of gunfire welcoming the now Ash free space below.

 

“Intruder Alert”

 

“Heat scanners picking up life”

 

“Commencing search.”

 

They would enter soon, the elevator stalled for a few moments before registering my previous command.

 

Snatching the grenade I had pocketed minutes ago, I pulled the pin, and tossed the explosive into the room below me. With just seconds on my side, I hefted the hatch shut, and pressed my back against the cool cement walls.

 

I had two outcomes here available to me. One: the elevator would still be functional and would start its ascension after the grenade went off. Two: I would be a rather un-charming pile of mush and gore splattered against the outsides of the lift.

 

_Oh, please be the first one._

 

An ear splitting rumble blasted out below my feet, the lift rocking violently but remaining in its tracks. Smoke hissed through the cracks of the hatch, the smell of burnt metal present. But, thankfully, I wasn’t dead and I could no longer hear my enemy shuffling around underneath.

 

With a quiet, yet now distorted, ping, the elevator moaned, sluggishly beginning its climb back towards the top floor. I slid to the floor, legs sprawled out in front of me as I gave a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, Danse is going to murder me.”

 

After a few seconds, the lift grinded to a halt one final time, the doors opening. I pried the hatch open, leaping through the gap and landing heavily in a mass of scattered arms and legs. Ah, and a gun to my face.

 

And a very, _very_ angry Danse.

 

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” I quipped, raising a hand to lower his weapon. Behind him the room was cleared, the soldier himself appearing to be no worse for wear than he was when I left.

 

Dogmeat danced at my feet, licking at my hand as I lowered it in greeting only to pull back due to the iron taste of blood. “Yeah, it’s not great.”

 

“I got it,” I said as I held out the transmitter to Danse, the Paladin turning scarlet with fury. He snatched it from me and attached to his suit. “You keep that up, smoke stacks are going to come out of your ears.” Still, he remained silent

 

He spun and headed for a secondary elevator that would take us to the surface. He said nothing as we waited for the lift to arrive and stayed that way as we went up.

 

Hell, even a half mile away, he still wasn’t talking.

 

I watched in silence as he got out of his power armor and stowed it in the garage, using the time to bandage my palms and fingertips with gauze and tape I had in m pack. They stung like a bitch but the cuts were all fairly superficial.

 

I followed as he trekked around to the front of the Station. Before he opened the door I finally spoke up, “Is this going to continue?”

 

He whirled on me then, jaw set, eyes filled with anger, muscles tense. “What? Is _what_ going to continue?”

 

“Uh, this,” I replied, waving a hand between us. “What’s up your ass?”

 

“Up my ass?” he bit back, incredulous to my word choice. “What the fuck were you thinking, Jones? Diving after that synth like that?”

 

“I was _thinking_ about the mission and getting the stupid transmitter.” Which was a lie. At the time, I had only been thinking about my son and how that small hunk of metal and parts was my key to locating him.

 

“Fuck the mission! You put the mission, myself, and your own life in danger for _what_? You could have been killed! You should be dead right now! How you escaped I have no damn clue. We could have all perished because of your idiotic, irrational, thoughtless stunt!”

 

“But we didn’t,” I pointed out.

 

“That’s not the point! You directly disobeyed orders, went against my instructions, and risked everything! Why? Why do that? What is so god damn important to you that you decided that you can throw that all away?!” Danse’s hands balled into fists at his side.

 

My lips parted but no words fell out. I closed them again, eyes searching the ground. Aside from Preston and the Minutemen, no one truly knew me. And even then, those back in Sanctuary only knew so much. I told them I was from a Vault and that my son was kidnapped. I didn’t tell them which Vault or what happened to me while I was there. I figured the less people knew about me, the less likely the same people who took Shaun would know where I was. Secrecy was the only thing I had going for me.

 

Hell, ever since I left the Vault, I hadn’t stopped moving. Hadn’t stopped to think or absorb what actually happened. The death of my husband was buried inside, the emotions tied to it locked away in a small cabinet in the back of my head that I never wanted to open. The kidnapping of my son, raw still. I hadn’t faced it. And being asked direct questions about it? I could feel a tremble work its way up my spine.

 

“Answer me, Jones.”

 

“I have my own reasons,” I replied quietly.

 

Danse shook his head, scoffing at me, “You put MY life in danger. I deserve to know what is so important to you that you feel that everything around you is expendable, including you and me. I didn’t take time to train you for you to take everything I taught you and chuck it out the nearest window!” He reached forward, gripping my shoulders. Dogmeat gave a low growl behind me, warning for him to back off. I looked up at the man, eyes wide. His touch wasn’t painful, just stern. Gaze trying to understand.

 

“Hey! What’s going on?”

 

“Preston?” I gasped, Danse’s hands loosening in the slightest.

 

Sure enough, the trench coat wearing, Minutemen leading man strode forwards, eye flickering between Danse and me. “Ash? What…?” His voice trailed off as he focused in on the Brotherhood of Steel emblem on my helmet. “Sturges said you were out gathering materials. I didn’t think I would find you this far South. When Dogmeat scampered off, I knew something was off but..?” I could hear the question in his voice. Preston directed his next line at Danse, “I suggest you release Ashtyn immediately.”

 

Danse’s eyes narrowed but he complied, not moving further away but at least his hands were gone from my shoulders.

 

“I ran into the Brotherhood,” I finally replied, blinking a few times to clear my head. “I did grab some supplies though,” I gestured to my pack. “I was just helping them gather a transmitter for a radio so they can contact base or whatever.”

 

“I see.” Preston kept his gaze focused on Danse, never truly relaxing his hold on the laser musket he carried. “Are you returning to Sanctuary now that you’ve helped them then? Or, do you need assistance on your mission here? You know we are always here to help.”

 

“Uh… Well, not yet. I still haven’t found enough supplies.” It was such a weak lie. A fragile one. And we both knew it.

 

“Ash, I told you that I didn’t want you to head out until your leg was completely healed.” His tone was laced with concern, dusky eyes finding mine trying to understand why I couldn’t tell him the truth.

 

I sighed exasperatedly. “I get that, but I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.” If I did nothing, I would be forced to realize what happened to my family, to relive it over and over again. I wasn’t ready for that. How could I _ever_ be ready for that?

 

And how was I supposed to get any of them to get it?

 

“I can escort you back to Sanctuary, if you like,” he offered, expression hopeful. He knew he had no actual control over me. Like with the Brotherhood, I wasn’t an official member of the Minutemen. It had been offered to me on several different occasions, but I always refused stating that I would prefer just to help in any way I could.

 

I shook my head. “I’ll return when I’m ready, promise.”

 

“Ash, I-“

 

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I get it, Preston. I do. But I’m safe.”

 

Preston’s face darkened. “Doesn’t look that way to me. Make sure you don’t find yourself with the wrong people. Not everyone out in the Commonwealth is as friendly as us.”

 

Danse spoke up for the first time in the transaction, “You trying to insinuate something, civilian?”

 

Preston cocked his head to the side, lips curling in disdain, “Other than the fact that I know what your organization stands for and how you would turn a blind eye to someone in need simply on race alone, nope, not at all.”

 

“And what makes you so much better? Should I be an over-protective guardian like you? Careless on who I let in? Regardless if it hurts others?” Danse threw back.

 

“For the love of, stop,” I demanded, putting my hands on the chest of either man, pushing them away. “Now is not the time for a morality discussion. Preston, go home. Danse, back off. Me? I’m going back to the station to have Haylen look at my shoulder which, in case you didn’t notice, is still trickling with blood. So thanks. Bye.”

 

I waved a hand dismissively, pressing past the pair of them and bee lining for the building ahead.

 

After a few seconds I heard Danse jog up beside me. “Our conversation isn’t over, Jones.”

 

“It is for now,” I replied, shoving the door open with both hands.

 

Haylen stood from her spot next to the window. “Ash! Danse?”

 

Danse dropped the transmitter onto the counter. “Tend to her wound.” His voice was flat, vacant of emotion, void of any feeling. He disappeared into the left room. I could hear him speaking to Rhys, likely giving report on the mission. I took comfort in knowing I wouldn’t have to answer his questions… at least, not today. But eventually he would ask again… I had to come up with a way to respond. Should I lie? Tell the truth? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

 

Haylen hesitated before coming to my side and leading me to a spot with good lighting. “What happened?”

 

She unlatched the first aid kit as I unbuckled my armor and yanked my shirt off over my head, cringing as the muscles in my shoulder moved to comply. I kept my tank top on for privacy measures, just in case one of the men decided to waltz back into the room. “Seems the Paladin disagrees with my tactical decisions.”

 

“That doesn’t really clear anything up.”

 

“I blew up an elevator, after going against orders.”

 

“Oh.” I felt her dab at my back, washing away the blood before moving to bandaging me up.

 

“He’s pissed because I put my life at risk and blah, blah, blah. I don’t see how what I do should concern him. We got the transmitter. Mission success. And no one got too hurt. So what’s the big flipping deal?”

 

Haylen taped up the dressing after applying what appeared to be burn ointment to my skin. “Ash… There’s something you need to know about Danse.”

 

“If this is another ‘you should be grateful’ speech, I could do without that right now.”

 

“It’s not. But, he takes his position as leader very seriously. We’ve lost four people so far… and he takes the blame for most of it. Even though Rhys and I have told him several times that it isn’t his fault, he doesn’t listen. Watching you blatantly put your life at risk, it probably gave him a heart attack.” She patted my arm to indicate she was finished and handed me a fresh sweater to pull on. “Your life matters. And, for him, watching you throw it away when some of his men fought so hard to try to keep theirs… Just think about it, okay?” She gave a small smile, squeezing my hand.

 

“I will.”

 

“Good, that’s all I ask.” She stood then, brushing the dirt off of her suit before grabbing the transmitter. “I’m going to see what I can do with this. It may take a while to get it going but, better to start now then hold it off. If you need me, I’ll be on the roof.”

 

I gave a thumbs up as she walked out, leaving me alone with Dogmeat. He curled up on my sleeping bag, eyes lazily glancing around the room, sleep making his eyelids droop.

 

Kicking off my leg armor, I set the gear next to him in the small space provided. Pulling the helmet off my head, I paused, skimming my thumb across the emblem. Who wore this helmet before me? Was it someone Danse was in command of? Were they dead?

 

Fuck, she was right… in my blind anger I hadn’t considered how my actions could have affected him.

 

I hadn’t thought of anyone but myself.

 

We all had our hardships…

 

I placed the helm down gently and took a seat next to Dogmeat, hand patting his back.

 

Just like me, Danse had stuff he didn’t want to relive.

 

I made a silent vow that, as long as he didn’t push me to divulge in my memories, I wouldn’t do the same for him.


End file.
